Lords of the Storm: I
by The Savvy Sleuth
Summary: In the eye of a storm is a strange man found, with his memory seemingly gone and his eyesight much missed- he has wakened into a world of new, strange things and must learn how to survive in this foreign land. Bitter and broken, will our handsome hero find the light in his darkness? M for obvious reasons come on.
1. Prologue: Have heart

Light.

Cold light.

The soft tendrils of a chilled breeze brushed stray hairs across the skin of his face, dabbing away the dried sweat upon his brow like a forsaken lover whose fingers were made of ice. Somewhere deep down in a place he could not quite reach, was the sensation of wrongness, building slowly but surely toward the surface of darkness so solidly settled over everything. It was terrifying to be honest as every few moments would herald the sharp return of his senses, each racing back to add to the startling awareness mounting about his mind.

He could feel then, suddenly the gentle touch of breathy fingers became a shocking and painful wind, cold and biting against his face, his everything. He inhaled sharply as though knocked in the gut by an enemy for it felt no less than such, bitter oxygen scalded his lungs as the blood in his body seemed to remember how to pump. Numb, everything was so numb, his arms and his legs, his outer extremities were alight with sensation and he could only relate it to being impaled with a thousand needles. So strong and forceful it was, driving a wedge of agony into the base of his skull and forcing him to rear his head back in surprise, instinctually trying to alleviate some of the pain and only managing to cause more.

His face was alive, teeth gritted and nostrils flaring with every pulse of his heartbeat.

Never in his long life had he felt anything quite like it.

Everything was in a rage: trees groaned and creaked while grass whispered against his cheeks and hands, the wind howled with a fury unmatched and thunder shook the earth below him. Although somewhere inside he knew it not to be so, at that moment in time he could not help but feel overwhelmed and targeted, as though the entire storm had swept across the land just for him. But something was still terribly wrong and it was beginning to scare him in a way that he had felt very few times before, making his chest constrict under the already driving pressure and his heart jump like a wild animal in its cage. _Please_ a soft voice filtered through his mind, small and weak and afraid, and it was not hard to recognize as his own, giving a name to the emotion welling rapidly against his short resolve.

He was terrified. Wholly terrified and it was made worse by the fact that he could not see, having finally pinpointed the strangeness that was bothering him. Now it was going to drive him mad.

Although his body still ached and his bones felt brittle and frail, he panicked, groaning painfully while forcing heavy limbs to do his bidding, pushing his compromised figure from the ground and shifting as best he could onto his knees. By the time he had completed this task he was aware that much time had passed and his lungs were lined with fire, and for the first time in all of his life he was heaving, gasping for his breath as a mere mortal would. Still he could not see and on top of his weariness another bout of terror seized him, bringing unsteady hands up to touch his face, searching for something that might have hindered this ability. Alas there was nothing, everything was in place save for the unusual film of sweat upon his brow, slicking across his nose and cheeks while he could feel it dribbling tauntingly down his neck, chasing cold trails down his spine.

He was tired. He did not _get_ tired.

So distraught was he that the sound of careful footsteps did not reach him, completely bypassing what would have normally been impeccable hearing- for which he would later be much humiliated.

The ongoing storm was doing little for the small strength he had, it startled him horribly to realize that it was not just sweat on his face but rain as well, for it had been raining a good majority of the time and he was only just now realizing it. Everything about this was so very wrong, so very _very _wrong and he just wanted it all to end, make it all stop so that he could understand what was happening.

Thunder cracked, sending shots of discomfort into his brain from the far back left and he whirled around to face it as though it would do him good, like he could confront an enemy trying to sneak up from behind. In the process he gave a short-lived gasp as shaky legs refused to hold him and the slick grass brought him unceremoniously to the ground once more. As thunder rolled passively across his head and the rain pelted him from all directions he became acutely conscious of something burning against his breast, so hot that it was cold and he felt like he was being stabbed. Though it was not from anything material, but from within where a flickering candle of shame had been righted, electing to burn slow and tortuously as it illuminated every fault and wrong he had thus far committed.

He was… he was a warrior! A Captain of his Lords guard and here he was reduced to nothing but a mewling infant, shivering in a tight ball while silent tears mingled with the icy rain upon his cheeks. Crying, he was crying! _Crying_!

_Crying!_

There was no denying the hot mess pouring freely from his eyes, his sightless eyes that he could not explain and that scared him more than anything. In fact there was no denying the unholy fear at all, but what others did not know did not hurt them.

In the midst of the madness there was something different, a sound he had not noticed before and he picked his head up off the ground, cocking it to listen more aptly. His mind raced on autopilot going through a hundred different possibilities until a few seemed the more likely, for in that time he had discerned a hard and rugged breathing accompanied by the soft squelch of footsteps coming near him. Already they were so close, just feet away and only now was he aware, fury left a hole in his chest as a different sort of numbness overtook him.

They were a person, male by the sound of their voice and they were yelling something, trying to be heard above the gale. He did not understand what it was they said and doubted he could have if he wanted to, the wind was so fierce, but he was conscious of the foreign presence and he could _feel_ how desperately they fought against the current. Here he nearly choked for so much did he wish for his eyesight, then he could have _seen_ the who and helped his mind better understand the _what_ of what they wanted. Instead he floundered in a sea of thoughts and feelings, buffeted by his ears, nose, and touch as they struggled to make sense of the blackness ahead.

The stranger was speaking again except this time he could feel the stolen breath of them by his face, a hard, heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder and the speaker chanted in garbled words. Panic struck him and a thousand years of instinct demanded him to react, but his body was weak and frail and only twitched in the vague notion of escaping. His assailant did not seem to notice for another hand came down on his other shoulder and he felt himself being righted, embarrassment sizzled at the bottom of his gut, if he could have blushed he probably would have. That alone was intolerable.

_Get a grip on yourself!_ his mind screamed, his resolve struggling vainly at the lead-weight having taken perch upon his soul.

It was so wrong.

There was more shouting; more mangled speech and another voice joined the fray, this one lighter, fairer- a female. But there was no more than that for in that moment stillness came to his mind, gentle light filled all of the dark corners, chasing away the shadows and replacing the black holes with meaningless meaning. He recognized this light and it gave him comfort in ways he had not realized he desired, his thoughts flailed hopefully within the compassionate cocoon and the soft dreamlike brush of fingers banished every panic, every fear and terror to nothingness and he felt like they had never been there.

_Have heart; be not afraid of the dark. You will be found._

A sigh left his body and he relaxed.

_Sleep…_ she beckoned noiselessly and he followed her over the edge and into oblivion.

* * *

**Note**: I know I'm terrible, but when it bites me I have to write. You might or might not like this? But hopefully you will, I've got a few things piled up in the back I think you might like. But for now I'm hoping that it will give you a different sort of twist on modern/Lotr AU so I'm striving for something unique ;3 Reviews are token, I'd love to hear your feedback!

Please excuse any grammar mistakes, my word is dumb. Will go through and fix them when next chapter is up.


	2. 1: Unprepared

His return to consciousness was uneventful and it took him more time than he was comfortable with to realize that it had even occurred, only a soft, feathery feeling twisting through his gut told him so. That and the murmurings of another voice nearby, it was this that startled him into trying to get up, and resulted in a mind-piercing pain to shoot straight from his skull to the tips of his toes. Momentarily paralyzed in his shock, that was all it took for a pair of small hands to press into his chest and force him back onto whatever surface it was he laid upon.

_What is this!_ Even though the pain receded into a dull aching at the base of his head he was increasingly aware of the strangeness that was his own body.

Whoever had come to his aid seemed to have disappeared, leaving a burning outline of where their hands had once been. He was compelled to touch the spot but found to his dismay that when he thought he was moving his fingers he was in fact remaining unmoved. He tried his feet and was even more surprised to find that someone had removed his shoes, although he could not actually see to know there was leather missing he could feel the sore lack of warm leather wrapped around his foot. Immediately he examined the rest of himself, doing a mental once-over of what was supposed to be there and what was missing.

His rescuers appeared to have taken his clothes, the clothes he was familiar with, and replaced them for he was not naked. But he did not recognize anything about this new clothing, the bottoms were laced around his torso at the hips and quite snug while whatever fabric they were made of scraped queerly across his legs and knees. The top from what he could tell was long sleeved and made of something more soft and pliable than the bottoms, as well as being far too big for him, which was just a tad unbelievable. He was, after-all, one of the larger ellon wandering Middle-Earth. Even more bizarre was the lack of layers, sending him into a fit of confusion, what was this? He did not understand! Who were these strange persons and what right had they to lay their hands upon him in such a manner?

The very idea of being so vulnerable at the hand of strangers sent a surge of untried humiliation lancing into the core of his heart, lighting every breath on fire as he inhaled sharp and deep. When the murmuring of someone speaking tickled the shell of his ear he whipped his head around to face the place it came from, or the place he _hoped_ it came from. It must have been evident that he was angry for the voices grew louder until they were all around him, he barely recognized the voice of the nearest speaker, deep and sonorous with undertones promising authority that sent the hair on his neck prickling almost painfully. This person, this man, had an aura of command even though he spoke so gently to the rest of those in his presence, and that was his next issue.

He could not understand a word coming out of his mouth.

_Who are these people? What is it they speak?_ once again he sought an answer that never came.

A female spoke then, jerking his attention more to the left just as calloused fingers closed around his bicep. _That_ he could feel and as though a fire had been lit beneath his feet, he lunged. _How dare she touch him!_ It was disconcerting not being able to see his target and the response of so many different stimuli muddled his brain. To top it off was the lack of feedback garnered from his limbs, furious and desperate for a positive outcome he threw himself back onto the flat surface- for his bed was quite hard and comfortless- and tried to kick out instead.

"Who are you! What do you want with me!" He cried, nearly shrieking and he was hard pressed to remember a time when he had ever heard an elf shriek. Even in death the Eldar were proud creatures and preferred to remain silent in lieu of making a show over having their lives taken from them, that was a purely mortal discrepancy.

If he had not startled them with his hostility before than he seemed to have gotten the message through this time around, the fingers retreated from his flesh and he was once again left with a burning sensation. It did not last long though before large, hard hands took an iron grip on both of his upper arms and he was involuntarily restrained.

There was no possible way that this mere human- for he suspected that these people were in fact, just mortals- could hold him unless he wished it so.

"Unhand me before I cut your _throat_!" That typically seemed to work in the past.

Unfortunately it only added to the mounting tension in the room, they could recognize that he was angry and although they made no reply they also seemed to know that he was threatening them. He got the brief impression that these beings did not understand him, which was no surprise, most mortals were unlearned in the elfin tongue and even less knew how to speak it. Although he was capable of speaking the most basic of Westron dialects he was not entirely sure what the word was for 'throat,' and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

He should know better. He should have been prepared, should have learned!

But that was just it, none of this situation made any sense! He was confined to a place of where he knew not, being forced to stay down- rather easily mind you- and had at least four different mortals yelling at him in a tongue he did not know.

His body would not respond the way he wanted it to and _he could not see!_

He was as blind as a bat and no amount of shaking his head would change it. There was no mask to dislodge, no dirt in his eyes, he was simply unable to see and there was no explanation for it.

"I do not understand,"

So swiftly did the anger drain out of him, leaving naught but a cold and trembling shell before the mortals still speaking. It took them much faster than he to adapt and within seconds the hands binding him were removed and that same, deep voice made multiple commands. Before long the scurrying of feet drummed a hollow beat against his brain and he could only squeeze his eyelids shut in an attempt to help keep it at bay. More words were spoken and he was unsure, but at the same time certain that they were for him, for the lingering quiet would suggest that he and the man were alone.

"I do not understand you." He said simply in reply, suspecting that he too would stay misunderstood.

The man's presence was like a hovering shadow, never leaving and never lessening in its stern feeling. He had done nothing to earn these peoples' trust in the short time since his… _breakdown_, he would use the word thinly for elves were not the kind to just _break down_ in front of mortals. It was very demeaning.

Time passed slowly.

At some point he honed in on a faint clicking somewhere above his head, a repetitive noise that he focussed on for the longest time, using it as an excuse to fill the silence. Silence was something he revered and nearly clung to at times, used to it and glad to have it any other day. Today was not one of them. He did not appreciate the loss of noise and thus found himself enamored with the 'tick, tock' of the families grandfather clock, not yet recognizing it as such.

* * *

There was no telling when the strange man finally drifted back to sleep, but the moment his breathing evened out was the moment that Billy Fairchild took a deep breath, and relaxed. Four days had come and gone since finding the stranger in the middle of their pasture, it had to have been pure luck; a group of meddlesome cows had knocked down the fence during the height of the storm. Barney and her herd of miscreants were terrible when the weather was at its worst, leading he and his wife on more wild goose chases than he was comfortable counting.

This time his wife was glad the old heifer had gotten out of the pen, by the time Billy had reached the man he was cold to the touch and pale as death, but no injuries to be seen. After a quick return to the house and a deeper examination it was clear that the man had nothing wrong with him, yet for two days they struggled to keep his temperature down and him in the world of the living.

Steele, their eldest son, had argued relentlessly on calling a doctor, or even the police, and Billy had mostly agreed with him until his wife, Suzie had told him of her feelings on the matter. The woman did not have a lick of experience when it came down to medical matters, but she had been the one to examine the man after bringing him in from the storm and she had been most insistent that he remain at their home.

This though, this was getting to a point where Billy was about to call the cops whether she liked it or not. His daddy raised him to be weary of strangers, and although trusting of the general population, he could not picture this man being anything 'general.' He very much distrusted the stranger slumbering on _his_ table and disliked that _his_ wife was so preoccupied with him the last few days, was he jealous? You better believe it. But his daddy was not the only person to teach him some life lessons and just when he thought the going was getting tough, he found an ounce of pity somewhere deep down, and stilled his hands.

Strange one he was, Billy assumed he was blond but in truth his hair was more silver than anything and dag-nabbit if he did not have _nicest _hair he had ever seen. No offense to Suzie of course, but in the process of moving him hands had been everywhere to keep a grip on the mans wet clothes, then and only then had Billy found himself supporting the stranger under the back, and thus found a fountain of perfect, silky hair draped over his arms. Even drenched- Billy shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose, yeah the guy was _pretty_, but there were plenty of pretty boys cropping up these days.

"Holy!"

He had not even heard the front door open but the jangle of keys and surprised exclamation brought his head up. Honestly he had been expecting her back a little later than this, she was always late and preferred to waste time on nonsensical things like shopping, instead of coming home when she needed too. He should have known fate would not be so kind and Billy grunted, sensing the brewing storm.

"Who the hell is that?" confusion and curiosity, the tall girl strode to the dining room table to lean over the 'who' in question, bringing her face very close to his and squinting. Dismay kindled hopelessly in his stomach, he really wished she would not get so near… "Dad who is he?", Billy shrugged his shoulders and scrubbed at his face "Don't know," he grunted. This of course was not acceptable to her and the girl continued to press, all the while moving around the table to see him at different angles, as though he had that many angles to look at.

"Oh come on, I come home and there's some hot dude just dead on our table, where'd he come from?" Billy actually snorted and stared at his daughter over his hand "Dead guy? Kristin Lynn that wasn't even smart," She threw him a smile "So who is he?"

"The question of the century, dragged him in from the storm a few days ago." She was frowning now as she reached up and prepared to touch his hair, here Billy intervened and grabbed her wrist, pushing it back while embracing the girl in a hug at the same time. "Don't be touchin' him now, he's wild as an animal with about four sets a teeth.", "Four sets- Dad don't tell me not to be dumb if you're gonna be, he looks perfectly fine!"

"He is for the most part." Suzie took that moment to come back from the kitchen, a sizzling pot of water held firmly between her hands. "A bit bent out of shape and confused, but otherwise he's good as new," Billy moved away from Kristin to help his wife, curious about what she planned to do with the water as she fetched a dish rag inconspicuously from her back pocket. She dipped it delicately in the water, hissing through the steam as she wrung it out and stood to lean over the stranger, Billy and Kristin both flinched back from the overpowering stench of rice vinegar.

"What the hell are you doing Sue?" Billy gagged, "Vinegar? mom I don't think that's gonna help him any!" Both held hands over their mouths and noses as Suzie proceeded to wipe the man's face, scrubbing from his hairline all the way to the underside of his jaw with little mercy. "Wimps!" she laughed "Get outta here if you can't handle it," continuing with her ministrations across the exposed flesh of his shoulders and collarbone. Although they had not noticed, a fresh sheen of sweat had broken out across the man's skin and Suzie had rushed for water just in case any hints of his earlier fever were trying to sneak back in. Throwing in a little vinegar for short measure, smiling ruefully at the memory of her grandma's secret recipe, something she always used when Suzie was sick.

Maybe it would help fight off this man's demons too.

With a glance over both shoulders and a quick survey of the room she confirmed that both husband and daughter had fled the scene. The sound of the television reached her from the other room and the familiar thump of footsteps overhead signaled that both family members had fallen back into routine. Suzie gave one last peek before getting on the tips of her toes so that she could reach easier, bringing the hand and towel around to hide her intentions, she gently brushed the hair away from his ear.

Pointed. Just like before.

So far as she knew, nobody else had gotten close enough to examine him and even with all of his wriggling earlier his hair had stayed loyally in place. Vaguely wondering about what shampoo he used she let the hair fall back into place and continued her task with a hum in her chest.

* * *

**Note**: most of it will come from our hero's point of view, but I will do stuff like this occasionally where I split it if I feel it would get the point across better. Chapters have no set word limit but they'll probably get longer with every posting, I tend to lean more toward novel-length… Please excuse any bumps in the road, I'm still getting used to the characters :3


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